


What You Don’t Know Can Hurt You

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [30]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Insecurity, POV Joan Watson, Relationship Problems, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan confronts John over his secrets while revealing a few of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Don’t Know Can Hurt You

After brunch was over, Joan tried to busy herself with menial tasks around the house in efforts to clear her head.  The leftovers had been packed away and the dishes were washed, but nothing seemed to settle her mind.  She pulled out some notes on a case Sherlock was working on, but her reasoning skills suffered due to the distraction of her scattered thoughts.  By the time John returned, she had given up any form of conscious effort and settled in front of the television without watching the screen.

“You’re watching crap telly?” John teased as he entered the lounge.  “Does that mean brunch went well or poorly?”

“No,” Joan answered with a light smile.  She reached for the remote and switched it off.  “It was good.  We got a lot out in the open.  Cleared the air.”

“I wasn’t aware it needed clearing.”

“You know how it is when people care about each other.  Sometimes they keep things from one another,” Joan said, attempting to gauge his reaction.

“Mmm.  I suppose so.”  John nodded.  “Do you want a cuppa?” he asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No, I’m good.”  Joan stood to follow.  “Are you hungry?  I just put the leftovers away.  I could warm something up for you.”

“That would be lovely,” John answered.  He stole a quick kiss before filling the electric kettle and setting it upon its base to boil.

Joan opened the refrigerator and pulled out the plastic container of leftovers.  She loaded a decent portion of frittata, made with broccoli, potatoes, and goat cheese, and a side of bacon onto a plate and popped it into the microwave.  She hung by restlessly as the seconds ticked down and then brought the hot food over to the table just as John was sitting down with his tea.

“Ta,” John replied upon receiving the plate.  He didn’t waste any time beginning his meal and Joan allowed him a small grace period before she attempted conversation.

“I think there’s something you should know,” Joan began after much thought.

“Hmm?” John responded with a mouthful of tea.  He swallowed it down then continued.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Moriarty.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine,” Joan answered.  “She’s back.”

John all but dropped his fork and knife, though he took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to lower both to his plate.  “Back?  As in back in London?”

Joan nodded.  “The painting we received was from her and it was just one of many.”

“How do you know that?” John asked with a furrowed brow, but they both already knew the answer.

“I went to see her,” Joan confessed.

John blinked.  “Sorry.  You did  _what_ now?”

“I knew the painting was from her the moment I saw it and I figured out that the signature was a clue.  So when I told you I was going to get my phone, I really traced the address to Eaton Square.”

“Irene Adler’s place?”

Joan nodded again.  “She had already borrowed her name in the past.  I guess she figured her home was fair game too.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to go alone?”  John exhaled sharply.  “Joan, Jamie Moriarty is a killer and a psychopath.”

“And if she wanted to kill me she could have,” Joan reasoned.  “But we both know that’s not her game.”

“So what  _is_ her game?”

“She’s been watching us, John.  All of us.”

“What do you think she’s after?”

“Chaos.”

John scoffed softly.  “Obviously.”

“She wants to get into our heads,” Joan added.  “Mine especially.”

John’s body tensed.  “What do you mean?  What did she say to you?” he demanded.

“She told me that Molly was keeping things from me,” Joan told him with a heavy sigh.

“Molly?”  John scoffed again.  “What could Molly possibly have to keep from you that would interest Moriarty?”

“They both think Sherlock is in love with me,” Joan answered.

If John had been keeping a straight face before that was certainly no longer the case now.  Joan’s sudden declaration had without a doubt unnerved him.  “And what do  _you_ think?” he asked in what she suspected was a careful attempt to broach a sensitive subject.

“I think Sherlock and I are friends,” Joan began.  “I think he cares about me about as much as he cares about most people.  Maybe a bit more.”

“A  _bit_ more?”  John huffed softly.

“Alright, a  _lot_ more,” Joan conceded.  “But I’m his best friend.  It’s no different than you and your Sherlock.”

“Except mine isn’t trying to get a leg over,” John muttered to himself as he stood up from the table.  He had clearly lost his appetite.

“Did  _he_ tell you that?” Joan questioned evenly, but she could already feel her temper rising.

“No.”

“Well what  _did_ he tell you?” she demanded.  “Or maybe I should ask what you said to him.”

John fixed her with an incredulous stare.  “Is this  _my_ fault now?”

“Maybe,” Joan answered, though she looked unsure.

“Are you having me on?”  John laughed mirthlessly.  “You can’t seriously be blaming me for this?”

“All I know is that something changed when you and Sherlock got together.  You’re surly whenever he’s around and he’s always making excuses not to be around me.  We barely even consult anymore.”

“Is that  _really_ such a big problem?”  John questioned.  “We’re married, Joan.  We should be behaving like a married couple.”

Joan rolled her eyes.  “There’s no one way to behave like a married couple, John.”

“Yea?  Well I reckon most married couples don’t have a third party involved in their marriage,” he said bitterly.

“You knew his role in my life when we got together.”

“But what I  _didn’t_ know was that the bloody bastard was in love with you!”

“So you’ve decided to wreck my relationship with him because you’re jealous?”  Joan accused.

“I haven’t wrecked a bloody thing!  If he decided to piss off, then that’s on him.  I didn’t say a bloody word to him.”

“Yea and you didn’t say one to me either,” Joan replied angrily.

John calmed down a bit.  “Is that why you’re angry?  Because I didn’t tell you?”

“When Sherlock came back, you were furious at me because you thought I knew something that was keeping you from your best friend and then you turn around and do the  _exact_ same thing.”

John sighed.  “It’s not the same.”

“It  _is_ the same!”  Joan exhaled sharply, shaking her head.  “Why would you do this, John?  Why… _how_ could you keep something like this from me?”

“I-I-I dunno.  Fear?  Stupidity?”  John stroked his brow.  “Both perhaps.”

“Stupidity I understand, but what were you afraid of?  That I’d leave you for Sherlock?”

“Maybe.”

Joan scoffed.  “Have the last few months proven nothing to you?”

“They have,” John insisted.  “Of course they have, but the last time we had problems it was because of Sherlock.”

“No the last time we had problems it was because  _you_ decided to walk out without talking things through with me,” Joan reminded him.

“And a promise that won’t happen again.”

“You’re right.  It won’t.  Because this time I’m leaving,” Joan said as she grabbed her coat.

“Joan.”

“I need to think about a few things and I can’t do it with you here,” Joan told him before exiting.  “I’ll be at Divya’s.”


End file.
